


Slap and Tickle

by merelyafigment, visionofblue (merelyafigment)



Series: Caregivers [3]
Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Community: hardtime100, F/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29854656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelyafigment/pseuds/merelyafigment, https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelyafigment/pseuds/visionofblue
Summary: Miguel does stupid things sometimes. Like stealing keys to the conjugal rooms and wasting good money to hang out alone with his thoughts. (Follows in the same 'verse asNot Nothing.)
Relationships: Miguel Alvarez/Gloria Nathan
Series: Caregivers [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2194935
Kudos: 2





	Slap and Tickle

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hardtime100 community (on DW, also found on LJ) Challenge 282.
> 
> Prompt: The Conjugal Rooms 
> 
> Edited slightly from there to add a few more words, because I remain full of fail at writing proper drabbles.

Mindlessly smoothing down the blanket, Miguel sat his ass on the lumpy mattress. Felt just as cheap. 

Padded a Hack's pocket to lose track of him, to not care where he went. 

Why here? 

Mattress was less shitty than his pod? 

Miguel flopped onto his back with a sigh, feeling the sad flat bounce of creaking springs underneath him, the sudden tickling scratch in his throat as fucking dust probably filled his lungs.

Wanted to get away. 

Be actually alone, not monitored. Where maybe he could briefly pretend to be in a crappy windowless motel room somewhere. (Or to check out what he'd never had the chance to use before conjugals got stolen from them.) 

Alone? 

That's all he had, but maybe not what he wanted. 

Drag of the rough blanket under his palm again. 

Paid for this with stolen pill profit. 

From the infirmary. 

(From her.) 

Shouldn't have done that. 

She--she treated him... 

…felt as strange to him as this mockery of a motel room. 

Blanket under one hand, abdomen under the other, both stroking idly, lost. 

What would she have done if he'd shown her the key, snagged from Sister Pete's office on a desperate whim? 

He knew the effect he could have, turning his voice soft and sweet, lowering it like his eyelids, looking up from under his lashes. Hinting. Teasing, with the tug of a smile. 

Probably wouldn't work on her, used to constantly flirting assholes. 

She was-- she was real with him. Honest. Kind. 

What if he'd just _asked_ , stripped himself a little bare? (Alone, wanting not to be. She made him feel less... or made him feel more...) 

Hand on his stomach slipped under his shirt just as thoughtlessly, the other rubbing over his face to catch his groan. 

Either way? She probably would've slapped him. 

***  
End

**Author's Note:**

>  **Notes:** Apparently, I'm just writing a FailDrabble 'verse with these two now? Also, look, titles are hard, okay? I have zero other ideas and a sense of humor that is at once very juvenile, and 100 years old.


End file.
